Ortus Imperium
by Sleeping-force's-inside
Summary: If a butterfly flaps its' wings, it unleashes a storm. A storm raging across worlds. R & E & R
1. Prologue

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **Prologue**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

 **Author's Note:** **Fight is courtesy to Absalom-rp (now deleted) and Youngest Horseman on tumblr. They gave me permission to use this for my fic I just modified it a bit.**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Grinning down at the younger warrior, Absalom slowly began to circle around War. Axe ready, he looked for any weaknesses.

The weakness was simply? His pride. He charged at Absalom first, his blade swinging at him. He gave a savage war cry was he did. I nfact, his pride was why Death's youngest raised was currently engaged in battle with the Leader of the Nephilim; what had been meant as an announcement of their next target had ended up as an argument that spiralled into this.

Fluidly despite his large frame, Absalom dodged the younger Nephilim's first strike while whacking him on the back of his skull with the flat side of his axe.

"First lesson: don't charge headfirst onto your opponent like some drunken Grappleclaw, you fool," the elder taunted.

War growled angrily and stood, taking a battle stance.

"If he's losing his patience he's already lost." Death whispered to Abimelech who stood next to him.

"If you'd bothered to teach him humility when he was under your care, we wouldn't be here." He whispered back.

On the field, the white-haired Nephilim hissed at a jab with the massive axe, glaring angrily as he smacked the weapon away with his. This brought Absalom suddenly closer to him. A fist headed right towards the platinum blonde head.

The young Nephilim was sent flying into a nearby boulder. He landed on his hands and knees, wiping the blood off his lips, he glared up at the Elder.

War clambered onto his feet, then yelled. "COME ON!"

"You're tenacious, I'll give you that." Absalom slowly closed on the angry Nephilim, axe ready and his eyes searching for any sudden movements. "Are you sure you can keep this up, child?"

"You might scare the others into submission, but you won't scare me!" War picked up his sword, his hood hanging half of his form. He got into a battle stance again, waiting for the Elder to make a move.

Absalom looked unimpressed at him. "You know so little." With a growl, the Elder swung Absolution down at the younger warrior, this time aiming to injure. The unruly younger generation needed to learn a lesson.

War parried the strike, both blades making a loud CLANG in the process. He detangled his blade from Absalom's then aimed his blade at the ribs of the Elder.

Side stepping and twisting his torso, Lilith's favoured child barely dodged the blade. A shallow cut appeared on his skin, marking were the sword had nicked him. Now standing too close to the younger one to use his axe efficiently, Absalom grabbed wrist of the sword arm in a crushing grip.

War grunted in pain, dropping Chaoseater, but that didn't stop him as he kicked swiftly towards the Elder's groin.

Absalom stumbled back, even he feeling the sting of that one ever so briefly. Both backed off, War using the distraction of his opponent to grab Chaoseater again.

They charged at one another, weapons ringing as sparks flew.

Despite his earlier advantage, once War's rage started taking over Absalom found himself more pressed than he would ever admit.

The battle lasted well into the afternoon and both combatants were tiring. On the side-lines, more and more amused faces turned concerned.

The young Nephilim was trembling with his exhaustion by now, but he refused to stand down. His pride would not allow him to concede defeat.

Absalom was faring much better and he was more than done trying to do Death the favour of showing mercy to his ill-raised youngest. Absolution flew in a wide arc, the air seemingly fleeing from that infernal blade.

The head separated cleanly from the body, sailing through the air to a chorus of gasps and outcries.


	2. Chapter 1

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **1**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Something was off, that much he could tell. But Abaddon was incapable of figuring out exactly what that 'something' was. It was as if the balance of the universe had shifted just a few degrees to the side.

"You feel it too, I presume?" Azrael didn't even bother with knocking on the door. "Iaoel is tense as all Hell as well."

"I am that easy to read?" The General pushed his chair away from his desk, watching his friend walk around the desk and sit down on the corner.

"Only by me, I assure you and as said, you're not alone with being tense." The Gatekeeper rolled his eyes lightly, placing the stack of paper he had been carrying on the desk in front. "Iaoel's tenseness is reflecting across her siblings, a.k.a my parents among several more."

"So did she see anything yet?" The warrior sighed lightly as he looked over the papers that he would have to continue working on once his guest was gone.

"Not as far as I know." The scholar seemed to realize what his host was thinking, chuckling a bit. "She'll let us know, no doubt. Regardless, the paperwork still needs doing."

"How do you scholars do it?" Abaddon wondered while starting to sort his new load of work. "And why do I have to do your work? Half of this can be done by someone else."

"Because if I don't give it to you directly, you keep checking up on your second five times while he does it." Azrael pointed out. "You're going to give him issues."

The other angel groaned because he had to admit that Azrael was right. He always felt paranoid when someone else filled out paperwork that was in any way important. What if they made a mistake?

While he continued with his paperwork, Azrael went for the drinks, also offering him a goblet.

"Don't you need to work?" The General finally demanded, taking the wine and sipping the red liquid.

"I have a Well-check planned in half an hour, until then; no." The scholar smirked lightly. "Are you hoping I'll help you with all this paperwork?"

His friend just grunted in answer to that. On one hand, he really wanted the help, but on the other, he didn't want Azrael to think he was incapable of doing his own paperwork.

Both of them were distracted by someone throwing open the door. Their demands died in their throats though when seeing who it was; a Firstborn, looking as haunted as she ever did. "Meeting in the Councildome, now."

They shared a glance before simply abandoning all the work to obey her.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ready to meet the Nephilim, Azrael?" Abaddon enquired while looking at the Mystic. They both stood in front of a portal primed to send them towards the new realm of the Nephilim. To be frank, the General preferred that his old friend stayed behind: the beings they are going to meet are not the most calming sort. But someone had to do it and he was considered the one most likely to be able to beat his way out.

"And have you incite a war?" Azrael chuckled gently. He reached over, resting his hand on Abaddon's shoulder. "Don't fret, Abaddon, I am more than capable of defending myself should it come to it. This needs to be done."

"You have so little faith in me Azrael. The last thing I want is a war between the first kingdom and the Nephilim." Giving a short wave towards the soldiers that would be accompanying them, Abaddon stepped through the portal after taking one last breath.

"You are not exactly a diplomat." Azrael followed him, wings neatly folded at his back. They appeared a respectful distance from where intel had told them the main encampment of the Nephilim was. To think that just a few days ago they had been contemplating how to best eradicate them all.

Grinning back to the scholar, Abaddon had to admit that he was right. The warrior scanned around the area. The landscape was, in a lack of better wording, strange. At first he couldn't locate any of the new inhabitants of the realm, but then he heard a greeting. As if appearing out of nowhere, a young-looking Nephilim headed towards them.

"We come in peace." Azrael spoke up. The Nephilim studied the angels in suspicion.

"Our Leader send me to show you to our encampment and his tent." As if he suddenly remembered, the young Nephilim bowed down and hastily added. "Greetings and welcome, my Lords."

Abaddon made a huffing sound; if not for the clear orders he'd received from a Firstborn, he'd never have agreed to this. But a Firstborn would not be disobeyed without a good reason, certainly not if most of them were in agreement.

"Your welcome is appreciated." Azrael returned the bow with a shallower one. It was more than Abaddon had done, at least. "We'd be honoured if you could show us the way."

Nodding, the Nephilim turned around and guided the entourage back towards a hill in a short distance. Once reaching the top, they could see the whole encampment; different types of tents were erected around many fires and between them many Nephilim roamed. The young guide gave out a loud call which was returned shortly after.

"Impressive." Azrael looked lightly around as they followed their guide. The only thing he had some trouble with were some of the more scantily clad people they encountered. Did the Nephilim keep slaves? Then again, it would be strange if they did not. He didn't see them like the type to do menial tasks themselves.


	3. Chapter 2

**Category: Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **2**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Abaddon's attention went back to the guide when the Nephilim bowed reverently towards another. This one looked older and was clearly higher ranked. After a short conversation in Nephilim between them, the elder turned towards the angelic group.

"One of the Firstborn, Death, my lords." The younger one introduced him.

After a curt bow, Death greeted them. "Welcome to our camp." With a wave, he sent the young one away. "With whom do I have the honour?"

Abaddon returned the bow. "I am Abaddon, General of the White City and this is Azrael, its' First Mystic."

"It is an honour that you allow us entry, Firstborn." Azrael bowed as well, a serene and gentle smile on his face. "I hope we have not come at an inopportune time?"

Scrutinising the serene face, Death answered. "Not at all. If you will follow me, I'll show you to your tents. " Curtly, he easily wove between the mazes of tents, leading them. Finally he stopped in front of a large and sturdy tent. "You can wait here while I'll announce to our leader that you have arrived." He kept his face expressionless.

"Thank you." Azrael inclined his head, leading the way inside. "My, this is quite different from your tents, isn't it?" He looked over at Abaddon as he walked over to the beds which were more like collections of furs on the ground. "Sleeping here will get interesting, no doubt."

"Have to admit, they do know their tents". The General inspected their temporary sleeping quarters. "Not sure about their 'beds', though." Spreading his wings for a moment, Abaddon glanced at Azrael before returning to his study of the tent. "What do you know about this Firstborn? I'm not too familiar about him."

Azrael sat down on the bed. "Not that much. It seems he is the elder sibling of the man who is now the leader of the Nephilim, War." His eyes narrowed a touch. "And I can make a reasonable bet was _Death_ 's specialty is…"

"Death. They aren't really imaginative with their names, aren't they?"

"Let's just hope the Leader's name is not indicative of how these talks will go." Azrael pointed out, one hand absent-mindedly caressing the fur he was sitting on.

"Heh, we will see. Just make sure to have a spell ready if everything goes south." Muttering, Abaddon began to pace around the tent.

"Calm down a bit." Azrael smiled lightly at his friend. "They would not dare harm us during talks about Peace."

Abaddon did stop his pacing, adding with a grim expression. "Probably not, but we barely know the new Leader. And Absalom wasn't known being a Peace-loving being. Plus someone with the name 'War'…"

"Your parents called you 'Destroyer'…" Azrael pointed out with amusement. "Granted, it's probably because you destroyed toys en masse, if the rumors are to be believed, but still..."

Giving his friend an annoyed look, the General snarled lightly. "My parents hoped I would 'destroy' the Demons, thank you very much."

A loud cough caught the two angels' attention; Death regarded them both with a raised eyebrow from the entrance of their tent. "War is ready to receive you both. Except for you two, there are any others who need to come with us?"

"For now, no." Azrael looked at Abaddon. "Though if we could station one or two of our guards nearby, that would be appreciated." Abaddon would obviously not settle for only himself as protection with Azrael there, quite often forgetting that the Secondborn was a CAPABLE squishy scholar.

After a few minutes of walking through the encampment they arrived to a large tent.

"Strife, stop pestering the guards" Death barked at his younger brother, who was hanging around near the entrance. The guards looked almost happy to see Death and the angels arriving.

"I'm not pestering them." The black-armoured male countered, but obediently moved aside a bit to allow the Firstborn to lead the angels inside. "Nice bird you got there!"

Azrael spared him a brief glance, following Death inside without comment. Perhaps he should see that IF they get the non-aggression-pact hammered out, there'd also be some language-lessons in there. Abaddon followed after stationing his guards outside, his wide wings immediately claiming even half of this large tent.

"Welcome General Abaddon and Archangel Azrael. I hope your travel was without any disturbances." War was seated on what appeared a low stool that was draped with furs. A large sword was sheathed on his back, gleaming in the low light. Behind him, standing like a sentinel was a large waraxe. His posture was relaxed and nearly lazy, but they could see in the Nephilim's eyes were anything but. Death calmly moved to stand beside his brother.

"It was, thank you for your concern." Azrael inclined his head lightly. "And thank you for agreeing to meet with us." He folded his hands in front of his body.

"I must admit; Your propositions for an alliance surprised us all, but before we will discuss it, " War gestured toward at the furs near the Angels. "Please sit." With a sharp call, a group of scantly clothed beings entered the tent with food and drinks.

Abaddon sat down and murmured a thanks when accepting one of the drinks.

Azrael draped his robes neatly around his knees as he kneeled on the furs. "Thank you." Both to War and the server that offered him a goblet. He probably didn't want to know where both the server and the goblet had come from. "Though it seems that our preposition was not entirely unwelcome, otherwise we would not be sitting here."


	4. Chapter 3

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **3**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

 **T** **aking** **his own** **goblet, War replied, "In that you are correct. I assume you are aware that we are planning of settling on this realm?"**

"We made the assumption, yes." Azrael took a small sip from his offered drink. "It did... seem like one of the better worlds you could settle on." On account of the others the Nephilim had... visited being reduced to uninhabitable wastelands.

"Don't be too shy to tell truth, we all know what happened to the other realms." Grinning, War took a large gulp from his drink. When he was finish, his smug look vanished. "Many of the younger Generation are tired to the constant moving from realm to realm. Having no realm to call their own. Once I defeated Absalom, we all moved here; of all the realms, this one was the most suitable. Enough hunting grounds and challenges. Though we have encountered some... difficulties."

"We have heard you have problems with the Demons." Abaddon added.

"Correct; Absalom was... lets say Lilith's favourite."

"I would not have expected her to care that much, considering the little contact he and she had..." Azrael mused. "Though, should we be able to work something out, no doubt we can also think of some military... exchanges."

"The Mad Queen is more furious that her greatest creation is defeated by a 'lesser'. " Death dryly explained.

War huffed at that, damn prideful demoness. "Indeed that might be a good idea." War couldn't help to admit that Azrael was a very beautiful to behold. It's wasn't easy to not too stare at him too long.

"Though a thought for later." Azrael smiled gently. "So if I may be so bold... what else would you wish from an alliance between Heaven and the Nephilim?"

"Trading would benefit of both for us."

"And for what?" Azrael gestured around him. "I see little that we could offer you that you could not gain by yourselves if taught the right skills."

"The First Kingdom are allied with the Makers. Despite us wanting to stay on this realm, it will reject us after a few centuries, since we aren't the original inhabitants." War leaned forward, frowning at this. The curse of them being created by the demoness instead of by the Creator himself.

"That is true." Azrael nodded lightly. "So you would like me to put a word in with the Makers to change the world to 'fit you', shall we say." He briefly glanced at Abaddon. "Please do not take this the wrong way, but why should we? What assurances can you give us that this arrangement would last to make that worth it?"

War inwardly cursed; politics wasn't his strongest suite. Curse Death for refusing the Leadership. It didn't help that the Younger Generation immediately took a like to the thought of him being the leader. After thinking about the angel's question, he answered honestly. "We have now a common Foe. The Mad Queen and the Dark Prince has no love for both our kind. You can say 'Enemy of my enemy is my friend'. Once this realm is secured there will be no need for us to roam and conquer realm to realm. My people are good at creating strong weapons that would benefit your cause." Was answered frankly.

Azrael looked at Abaddon expectantly. The General was probably a better judge of military matters than the scholar was.

"We have seen the effects of your 'weapons'; they are very effective against the Demons." Abaddon admitted, remembering the reports how the Nephilim dealt with rogue Demon fractions. Angelic weapons weren't lacking, but the Nephilim were in a league of their own. "But how are we certain that you not decide to turn back on us after you've gotten what you want?"

War spread his arms, showing his hands. "Unlike most demons, we Nephilim value oaths and honour. Once we pledge you our alliance, we will stand by it." War glowing blue eyes stared intently back at the General. "Assuming of course, you stand by ours."

"Of course." Azrael answered serenely. "Angels value their honour highly as well."

A smile broke out on War's face. "That was one of the reasons, why we want to forge an alliance with the First Kingdom." He felt somewhat relieved that he didn't screw up the talks so far. It helps that Death didn't make any comments about his 'conduct'. His eyes flitted again to the Mystic. The angel wasn't helping either to keep his wits.

Abaddon did noticed the quick look at Azrael. The General began to wonder how old the Nephilim was. Unlike Death's eyes, which had an ancient look within them, War was more open. Younger.

"And the others?" Azrael tilted his head lightly, giving no indication if he had noticed the look. "The White City wants the Balance to be restored, but are you sure you will be able to keep all of your... ah, shall we say, subjects in line? You have yet to mention the other 'Firstborn', was it?"

"Death is here to represent the Firstborn. Making sure that we come to a suitable solution. Even though the younger Generation outnumber the Elders by many, we still regard them as worthy of our respect."

Death interrupted his younger sibling with a soft sound. "The Firstborn are worried that the First Kingdom might retaliate for what happened in the past. While the younger ones are eager to settle and have a realm for their own, we still remember what we have done under Absalom's rule." Dark orange eyes moved from Azrael to Abaddon. "We know angels' memories are long."

"So are Nephilim's no doubt." Azrael nodded lightly. "I think we can safely say that neither side came out of our earlier... meetings smelling like the proverbial roses."

"The Elders would like to know if it would be any issue between our Kind and yours."

"Angels are beings of logic. They would not make it an issue if the Nephilim will not either." Azrael answered, taking another sip of his drink.

Death acknowledged, also taking a drink from his goblet.

Was sighed in relief; Death had much sway with the Firstborn. If Death was agreeable with it, the others would follow. "As you know what the Nephilim want from this alliance, what does the First Kingdom desire from us. Except of course, our craft in weaponry." War inclined his head at Abaddon.

"Peace, foremost." Azrael answered the young Nephilim. "As said, the... rampage under your former leader was not exactly the most healthy thing to happen to Creation." Plus, the Well was somewhat clogged at this point, awkward, awkward. "I suppose we can start with Non-aggression and some minor trade to see where it goes?"


	5. Chapter 4

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **3**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Certainly." War realised he might he had said it too enthusiastically. Coughing a few times, he tried to regain his composure. "We can continue tomorrow for the deeper details of our alliance. We hope you can stay for the feast at the evening."

"A feast?" Abaddon repeated in surprise.

"Yes, to celebrate the beginning of pact between Heaven and the Nephilim."

"I would be honoured to join." Abaddon replied smoothly.

"It would be my pleasure as well." Azrael inclined his head with a small chuckle. "I hope I am not overdressed though." He gestured to his robes.

War nearly wanted to say yes, he would look better with less, but he managed to bite his tongue. "As long you don't come armed to your teeth, it doesn't matter how you dress. Nephilim regard a feast as the time to show trust between your brethren."

"Though we have to warn you: our people are... very exuberant during that." Death drawled, eyes now shining what looked like mirth.

Abaddon might had an idea what Death meant. They were Lilith's creations.

"We'll manage, no doubt." Azrael looked at Abaddon. "Mayhap my dear Abaddon will finally remember the meaning of fun." He laughed softly as he set the goblet aside to rise to his feet again.

War listened in awe at Azrael's low laughter. His attraction towards the angel steadily grew.

"Thank you for your willingness to join us." Death rose up and laid a hand on the shoulder of War.

Feeling the warning hand of Death, War shook himself awake and gotten up as well. "Death will report back to the Elders about our agreements. Strife, my other brother, will guide you back to your tents. You would have seen him at the entrance earlier." War called for his brother in his native language.

Azrael bowed lightly, turning to the exit of the tent to return to their tent. \"You were quite quiet there."\ He stated in their native language as he looked at Abaddon. \"What were you thinking about?"\

After saying his goodbye to the Nephilim, Abaddon answered: \"Seems you and War had a good click during the meeting. He responded well to you."\ Abaddon glanced at the scholar, while following the dark-haired Nephilim. \"He is actually very attracted to you."\

\"Attracted?"\ Azrael resisted the urge to snort. \"Abaddon, he has barely seen me for half an hour. How could he possibly be attracted to me?"\

\"Saw him sneaking looks at you."\ Abaddon chuckled low. \"You have to admit, Azrael. You are a looker. And War is young and hot bodied warrior. They tend to fall fast."\

\"He could just as well have been admiring my outfit. It probably IS the first time they see a scholar-angel up close."\ Azrael briefly caressed his embroidered robes. \"Besides, I am a scholar. I assume that someone named 'War' will find not much interest in those."\

\"Most young ones like the new and the exotic."\ Abaddon explained, \"And I'm certain he wasn't admiring your clothes."\

\"What makes you so certain?"\ Azrael briefly twitched his wings. \"Did I miss the part where he started drooling?"\

Waving away Azrael's worries, Abaddon grinned. \"He wasn't drooling over you, my friend. He looked more at you as if you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. His Elder even had to tug him awake. No doubt he's going to get a tongue lashing from him"\

\"Poor boy. I feel that this is not what he signed up for."\ Azrael entered their tent. \"So what should I do if your assessment is accurate? Flirt with him?"\ He snorted lightly, stretching his wings briefly now he had the space.

He shrugged his shoulders. \"I don't see why not"\

Azrael would have done a spittake had he been drinking. "ABADDON!" His wings flooffed in shock.

\"What? Might even be advantageous for us. If you play it well, naturally."\ The General looked calm at Azrael.

\"Abaddon, I am a SCHOLAR and DIPLOMAT, not some kind of whore you can sell to the opposite side for benefits."\ Azrael stated sharply. \"What, do you want me to tell him that if he gives us all the nice things, he can get my ass!?"\

\"Of course not!"\ Abaddon looked actually shocked at Azrael's statement. \"I would never! What I mean is that War is more receptacle to your suggestions. He would have the innate urge to please you. He wants you to think highly of him. I've no doubt he will put his kin first when brokering the deal, but he will not try to overwhelm you for all the benefits without giving something back. Death the other hand, would have no qualms to reap everything. We mustn't forget we are talking about Lilith's creations. They may be imperfect in her eyes, but they did thrive against all odds."\

\"Exactly, they are Lilith's creations."\ Azrael pointed out. \"What would that mean for their sex-life? What do you suggest I do if sex is something they do BEFORE flirting?"\

\"Simply tell him that's not the Angelic way. And besides, where did I say you had to have sex with him? You only have to let him become fond of you." \

\"And will he accept that? We know nothing of Nephilim-customs, Abaddon."\ Azrael sat down upon their 'bed'. \"Yes, he is honourable, but what does that mean for his bed-habits? For all we know, the moment you show interest in someone, you are expected to follow through with the entire shebang. I am not going to risk it."\

Abaddon raised his hands. \"Alright, alright. If it makes you too uncomfortable, you don't have to do it. I would recommend to you to observe his behaviour towards you. You will then see what I mean."\

Azrael rolled his eyes lightly. \"I do not doubt your statement regarding his lust towards me, old friend."\ He rolled his shoulders. \"I should have brought a book to read until this evening."\

Looking towards the Heavens and muttering about stubborn scholars. \"I'm going to see how the others are doing and brief them about tonight."\ He headed out of the tent.


	6. Chapter 5

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **5**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

 **"Well, they are certainly looking forward to the party." Azrael looked around the free area. Several gigantic firepits were roaring, meat being barbecued above them... or well, rather BESIDE them. And again, plenty of the people he assumed were slaves. \"I wonder if we could manage to abolish their slavery?"\**

\"If we handle it carefully enough, no doubt"\ Abaddon peered at some of the servants. \"Some of them look like they are regular Nephilim."\

\"Doesn't make it nicer."\ The scholar studied the servants as well. "Well, let's go find our host then, shall we?"

Before they could head out into the masses but one the half-naked Nephilim came to them. Bowing, she spoke: "My Lords, our Leader asked if I could bring you to him and his family. Unless you rather stay near your brethren, of course. He told me to say, that either way is acceptable."

"I'll join your Leader." Azrael looked at Abaddon. "What about you?"

"I'll be honoured to join as well."

The female bowed again and lead them to one of the bigger firepits. Soon, the angels could clearly see War, Death, Strife, and an unfamiliar female sitting on large mounts of fur. Once War noticed them, his eyes shone brighter and greeted them.

"I'm pleased that you want to join us."

"It would be a pleasure." Azrael walked up to them. "May I?" He gestured to the furs near War.

"Gladly!"

Death hissed something to his younger brother. War barely gave a small finch and answered back in a low voice.

"You can sit where you want to be seated."

Abaddon coughed softly in his fist, muttering something.

Azrael's mouth-corner quirked upward in a small smile as he got comfortable on the furs. "Then I suppose I might as well sit here."

Strife leaned over to female, whispering something into her ear in Nephilim.

The General sat down near Death, nodding at the Elder.

"Let me introduce my sister, Fury," War gestured at the female, "And Strife you already are familiar with."

Azrael inclined his head lightly at the introductions. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." The female reached forward a bit, gesturing for one of the servant/slaves to come over with drinks. "So you are Azrael, Keeper of the Well?"

"Indeed." The scholar smiled lightly. "I was not aware my fame had stretched to the Nephilim..."

"Your prowess in the mystics is renowned in the whole Creation. Just like yours in battle." Death said while turning to Abaddon.

"Thank you for the compliment."

"I'm just stating the facts."

"Then I do feel at a disadvantage here." Azrael smiled lightly. "Would you sate a scholar's curiosity about your people? Little is known about the Nephilim outside of your... conquest."

"What would you like to know about us?" War cast Death a thoughtful look. "I admit that our kind are quite secretive towards the outsiders."

Death huffed at this.

"Whatever you are willing to share, I suppose." The scholar regarded his drink lightly. "I would not dare infringe upon your secrets."

Strife chuckled. "Unlike War, who wants to infringe upon your clothes."

Fury snorted, half-spitting out the drink she had just taken, before burying her face in her hand as she supressed laughter.

Death resisted to lean over and cuff hard behind Strife's head. He did send out a glare to both his younger siblings.

War tried to ignore the comments, nevertheless his cheeks felt a lot hotter now. Hoping that it was dark enough to hide his blush, War cleared his throat. "Just ask what you are curious about and I will see if I can answer you."

Abaddon managed to keep his face expressionless at the scene before him.

"What did he say?" Azrael gestured to Strife. "It seems like that was something hilarious."

Strife grinned widely. "I like him. But if you will excuse me... I see something I like even more over there." He gestured to the other side of the fires. "Toodles..."

Fury said nothing, wiping her face of the spilled drink while still chuckling.*

"Strife is being his crass self again." Moody, War stared after his brother hurrying or rather chasing the giggling female. "He tend to be that."

"That's a understatement." Death drawled, taking a goblet from a servant.

Abaddon made an uncomment sound and accepted the offered drink.

"I'll stay far away from commenting about that." Azrael looked after the short-haired Nephilim. "So... I presume he'll... have sex with that girl this night if he gets lucky." He took a good drink. "Do you have courtships and the like?" He looked at War.

"I think someone caught on." Fury mused, leaning into her furs.

"Depends on what you desire. The Nephilim over there, whom are wearing those clothing, are more interested in a fling, nothing serious." War pointed at a loose group, giggling and strutting around while showing off their best features. "If they like you enough, they will invite or join you in your tent."

Death, following Fury example, reclined in the fur.

"If you want however a more permanent arrangement, you give the one who you are attracted to a gift. To show you are genuine in your pursuit. The other can accept or refuse the gift, indicating if you may or may not court them." War somewhat hoped that Fury wasn't right about him showing too much interest to the scholar. Death already scolded him for that, saying never try to bed an negotiator. Not that War just want to bed him but that's besides the point. He didn't want to ruin a chance of getting Heaven to their side and trying to seduce one of the highest ranking angel was a recipe for disaster.

"Quite like angels then." Azrael looked at Abaddon. "Though I feel there is more sex involved." A faint blush appeared on his cheeks when seeing a couple being well underway. "A lot more..."

"Well, we WERE created by Lilith." Fury pointed out.

"We are more liberal about sex. Seeing it more as mutual way to experience pleasure and... ", Death gestured to the couple going wild, "pass the time."

Abaddon tried to look anywhere but at the couple rutting. "I see."

War glanced at both angels, raising his eyebrow. "So angels see the act of sex differently?"

"More as a sign of trust between lovers." Azrael turned his attention back to his drink. "This'll be interesting, at least."


	7. Chapter 6

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **5**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Tilting his head, War asked sincerely. "Does it bother you too much? I realised that our customs must be alien to you." He wondered if the scholar would flee after seeing all of this.

One of the servant brought plates with food and gracefully laid them in front of the company.

"Bother might be too big a word." Azrael blinked a few times, chuckling lightly. "Besides, it is hardly my place to judge another's culture." Though this would make Abaddon's ploy to have him seduce War into a better deal somewhat more awkward...

Fury snorted lightly. "You're probably the first." She reached for the meat, offering a piece to Abaddon.

Blinking Abaddon accepted the meat and thanked the female. He quickly glanced around if there were any other certain customs in consuming the food. After War offered a piece to Azrael, he then dipped it in one of the sauces. Death however, directly ate it. Abaddon decided then to just eat it plain first and then later try out the dippings.

Azrael meanwhile silently lamented his wide sleeves. This was gonna be a mess. He daintily bit down on the meat, deciding he'd strip a couple layers after he finished it.

"Is there any other things you are curious about, Azrael?"

"Not that I can think of them at the moment." The scholar meeped softly, just barely catching the juices of the meat he was eating before they dripped down onto his robes. "What about you?"

"How's Heaven like?" War looked how Azrael was struggling to keep his robe clean. He pick up a cloth that was normally used for drying your hands after cleaning it with water, but he figured that the Scholar need rather now then later. The Nephilim offered it to the Mystic.

"Thank you." Azrael accepted it. "I guess I am overdressed after all." He chuckled lightly. "If you will excuse me for a few moments, but I think I need to go shed some layers." He put the meat back on the plate, cleaning his hands and rising to return to his and Abaddon's tent, leaving said Abaddon with the three Nephilim.

Well, this is awkward. Abaddon wasn't never the most of social of people. "Shall I try to explain how Heaven's like?"

After a confirmation, Abaddon explained about the First Kingdom, without delving their potential weaknesses.

"So you need to fly everywhere?" War could barely imagen the scale of all it was described to him.

"It is certainly far faster than walking." Azrael rejoined them, now only in leggings and a tunic – an outfit almost indecent by Angelic standards. "Are you boggling our hosts, Abaddon?"

"Yup." Fury answered in the General's stead.

Abaddon chuckled low. "Tried not to, but then I do not have your skill in describing." He handily plucked another piece of meat and dipped in a sauce. "Should try this one, Azrael. It's very good."

"The cooks will be please to hear you are enjoying our food."

War looked in admiration at Azrael's appearance. The clothing really showed the scholar's features. Remembering Death's warning and knowing angels aren't that open, War evaded his eyes.

"That is why I normally do the talking." Azrael chuckled, retaking his place and meat. "Mayhap you can at some point visit us." He added in an aside to the Nephilim.

"I'm not sure I'd want that." Fury made a face briefly.

"Afraid of falling off the Isles, sister?" War smirked at Fury. "And here I thought you loved heights."

"I'd be more afraid that you break one of the bridges and fall forever." Fury countered sharply. "Angels seem to flimsy to have something that could support YOU."

"Children, please behave." Death said in a mocking voice. "You both are suppose to be adults."

"It seems that runs in the family." Azrael chuckled why gesturing to Strife, who was certainly enjoying himself. "So aside from this, what else starts a party among the Nephilim?"

"Strife is a bit of an odd one out of the family and as for reasons for a feast," War looked far in a distance, vaguely noticing Strife giving another Nephilim a playful smack of the ass. "After a fruitful hunt or conquest, and the day when we get our Adult names."

That caught Abaddon's attention again. "Aren't you named at birth?"

"No, we have to earn our names."

"How, if I may ask?" Azrael leaned over lightly, his scholarly curiosity piqued. "Is it related to the name itself?"

"Nah, the name is related to our characters." Fury shrugged lightly. "Though I think Death was a bit drunk or something when picking mine."

Both male Nephilim stared back at Fury. "Fury, everytime anyone dared to imply that you were weak because of your gender, you would throw a hissyfit and beat the offender up. After awhile, the healers only need to hear 'It was Death's secondraised' to know what had happened." War pointed out, carefully.

"Not to mention everytime there was a thunderstorm, you would..."

"Would what?" Azrael chuckled. "And dare I ask why someone would get the name 'War' then?" He could imagine why Death was named 'Death' at least.

"I'd climb up trees." Fury rolled her eyes. "Death always got heart-attacks for some reason?"

"You always yelled you don't want to come down." Death grumbled, remembering all too well how he had to climb after her, while worrying that the lightning would strike the tree. "And War got in his name, because he is a battle-thirsty youngster."

"I'd only challenged people to a duel!"

Death looked deadpan at his youngest sibling.

"Well, I guess Fury was giving into her 'angelic roots', if I may call them that." Azrael stated to a snort of said Fury. "And isn't the rumour that you got the job after you accidentally killed Absalom in a duel?" He pointed out to War. "Perhaps you should consider your challenges a bit at times?"

War muttered that Absalom didn't really left him a choice.


	8. Chapter 7

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **6**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

 **"So you need to fly everywhere?" War could barely imagen** **the scale of all it was described** **to him.**

"It is certainly far faster than walking." Azrael rejoined them, now only in leggings and a tunic – an outfit almost indecent by Angelic standards. After a while next to the fires, his robes had simply become too hot."Are you boggling our hosts, Abaddon?"

"Yup." Fury answered in the General's stead.

Abaddon chuckled low. "Tried not to, but then I do not have your skill in describing." He handily plucked another piece of meat and dipped in a sauce. "Should try this one, Azrael. It's very good."

"The cooks will be please to hear you are enjoying our food."

War looked in admiration at Azrael's appearance. The clothing really showed the scholar's features. Remembering Death's warning and knowing angels aren't that open, War evaded his eyes.

"That is why I normally do the talking." Azrael chuckled, retaking his place and meat. "Mayhap you can at some point visit us." He added in an aside to the Nephilim.

"I'm not sure I'd want that." Fury made a face briefly.

"Afraid of falling off the Isles, sister?" War smirked at Fury. "And here I thought you loved heights."

"I'd be more afraid that you break one of the bridges and fall forever." Fury countered sharply. "Angels seem to flimsy to have something that could support YOU."

"Children, please behave." Death said in a mocking voice. "You both are suppose to be adults."

"It seems that runs in the family." Azrael chuckled why gesturing to Strife, who was certainly enjoying himself. "So aside from this, what else starts a party among the Nephilim?"

"Strife is a bit of an odd one out of the family and as for reasons for a feast," War looked far in a distance, vaguely noticing Strife giving another Nephilim a playful smack of the ass. "After a fruitful hunt or conquest, and the day when we get our Adult names."

That caught Abaddon's attention again. "Aren't you named at birth?"

"No, we have to earn our names."

"How, if I may ask?" Azrael leaned over lightly, his scholarly curiosity piqued. "Is it related to the name itself?"

"Nah, the name is related to our characters." Fury shrugged lightly. "Though I think Death was a bit drunk or something when picking mine."

Both male Nephilim stared back at Fury. "Fury, everytime anyone dared to imply that you were weak because of your gender, you would throw a hissyfit and beat the offender up. After awhile, the healers only need to hear 'It was Death's secondraised' to know what had happened." War pointed out, carefully.

"Not to mention everytime there was a thunderstorm, you would..."

"Would what?" Azrael chuckled. "And dare I ask why someone would get the name 'War' then?" He could imagine why Death was named 'Death' at least.

"I'd climb up trees." Fury rolled her eyes. "Death always got heart-attacks for some reason?"

"You always yelled you don't want to come down." Death grumbled, remembering all too well how he had to climb after her, while worrying that the lightning would strike the tree. "And War got in his name, because he is a battle-thirsty youngster."

"I'd only challenged people to a duel!"

Death looked deadpan at his youngest sibling.

"Well, I guess Fury was giving into her 'angelic roots', if I may call them that." Azrael stated to a snort of said Fury. "And isn't the rumour that you got the job after you accidentally killed Absalom in a duel?" He pointed out to War. "Perhaps you should consider your challenges a bit at times?"

War muttered that Absalom didn't really left him a choice.

"But let's talk about other things." The angel smiled gently. "Shall I and Abaddon show you some angelic dances? I assume that on occasion Nephilim also dance?"

"We do..." War was however in no illussion that the Angels have a very diffirent way of dancing than their own. Probably with lots of flying.

Abaddon chuckled: "Of what dance do you have in mind, Azrael? "

"Probably best not something that takes you into the air." Fury pointed at the roaring bonfires.

"Perhaps the spring-dances?" Azrael suggested, grinning lightly.

Abaddon laughed out loud and got up with grace from the furs. \"Gotten inspired, old friend?"\ He held out his hand to Azrael, so he could grab it.

\"With all the sex going on, I feel like that's the only one that fits. Though you are overdressed for it."\ Azrael looked at the revelers before looking at War over his shoulder. "Could you by any chance give us some room? I'd hate if we knocked someone into a fire."

With a curt nod, War then put two fingers his mouth. A loud whistle caught the attention of small crowd infront. Hearing the sharp calls from their leader, the whole group moved away to give room to angels and looked on with interest.

\"Seems we have recieved the attention of half the camp."\ Abaddon whispered while guiding Azrael to the cleared area. Grinning at his friend, he added: "Ready, Arzael?"

"You may lead." The scholar detached, moving a bit away. \"Let's see if we can't show these Nephilim a thing or two about 'sexy'."\ He moved into the starting-position.


	9. Chapter 8

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **7**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The dancing angels – even without their traditional music and magics – looked ethereal as they danced. Unlike the warlike or sexual dances of the Nephilim, they fluttered lightly, their forms cloaked in the Holy light that they embodied.

\"That went well."\ The General remarked while the Nephilim around them hollered and whistled in approval. \"It seems this time, the young warrior is drooling for you."\

Dazed, War stared starry eyed at the scholar. He didn't even noticed that his mouth was open. Later after Death gave him a harsh jab in his side. He'd snap out of it. "Contain yourself, War."

"I'm trying! But have you seen that?" War gestured at the two angels.

"I have working eyes too." The Elder hissed, "Keep your wits about. You are old enough for that!"

\"Not only he."\ Azrael chuckled lightly, looking around at the other Nephilim. \"I'm still amazed you managed to dance in full armour."\ He headed back to the furs, picking up two goblets on the way. "Were you entertained?" He asked while offering one of them to War as he sat down again.

"It was certainly something." Fury smirked lightly. "We best keep an eye on War, or he'll jump the bird."

Death grumbled in agreement.

"Just as my sister had said: it was something." War gave his siblings a foul look for their comments, while accepting the offered drink. He could handle himself, thank you very much.

"One of the more popular dances of our youth, though the adults also joined in time to time." The burly angel sat down with a huff. "Not the most suitable for armoured clothing."

"You managed just fine." Azrael chuckled lightly, pushing his hair out of his face. "My, I need to start working out again. I am out of shape."

"Not that I noticed during the dance." War commented. He took a large gulp from his drink.

Abaddon was in process to remove his own fur. Too warm for that now.

"I feel like Abaddon went easy on me." Azrael joked. "We were a touch slower than normal, no?"

"Only a bit"

"Still, it was fasinating to watch." Peering around him, Death remarked: "You even gained a quite large of number of admirers."

Few of the more bolder Nephilim, were waving at the angels when they noticed they have the guests attention.

"What can I say? Angels are always in style." Azrael returned the wave, low laughter escaping him. "I did my best to give a good show."

"You managed." Fury grinned. "Didn't he, brother?"

Keeping his face expressionless, War answered: "It was a good show." He was getting sick of his siblings' jabs.

Putting down his fur, Abaddon raised his eyebrows at War's tone.

"Not impressed?" Azrael asked in surprise. "We can show you some other dances as well?"

"Are all angelic dances like that?"

"Not all, some are more slower and or formal." Nipping from his drink, the warrior leaned into the fur.

"Though those shine when having more participants." Azrael pointed out.

War nodded, somewhat distracted; he felt himself turning warm. Not sure due to the roaring fires, food and drinks, or that the scholar was sitting even closer to him. Plus he can feel the judging eyes of his eldest upon him.

"How many angels join in those kind of dances?" Death politely enquired.

Abaddon thought for a moment: "I believe around a dozen, six pairs."

"Though for bigger events that number can go up quite a bit." The scholar added, taking another drink. "My... How much alcohol is in here?"

"Not that much, by all standards." Fury grinned lightly. "Guess you must be a lightweight if you're getting affected already."

That was the moment War decided he needed to get up. He needed to show his face around the camp and maybe a stroll would help to remove thoughts of the angel out from his mind. "Pardon me; even though I had a great time with you all, I need to leave." War waved around him. "Must see to my people."

"Don't forget to pass by the Elders, War."

"I wouldn't dare," War huffed. "Archangel Azrael and General Abaddon, I'll leave you both to the tender care of Fury and Death, and will meet you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it." Azrael inclined his head as Fury got up as well.

"I'm going to look for some fun, and keep Strife from getting into trouble." She waved farewell to the men and left.


	10. Chapter 9

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **8**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The Alliance took of to a slow start. Most of the Nephilim – particularly the Elders – didn't see much use in a complete alliance with the angels. Having some back-up against the fury of Lilith was nice, but to change their way of life to fit in with the birds was perhaps a touch much.

Azrael and Abaddon stayed for the next few days, though after the first night they erected a series of tents of their own at the edge of the camp. Nephilim tents were not made with angelic comfort in mind, even with the angels being capable of egging.

War tried to keep his time with the scholar to a minimum, as his attraction to the angel grew steadily. The new Leader of the Nephilim had always favoured males, but the men of his people would never submit and he saw no pleasure in making one of their slaves mate with him. The fact that he had 'inherited' most of Absalom's harem was pretty annoying as well. Both the males and females were quite comely, but he was always creeped out with their minds being solely focused on his pleasure.

He also couldn't help but wonder what he was supposed to do with a small army worth of slaves. He quickly decided to gift most of them to his family and friends, leaving only half a dozen for himself. Even then he struggled to get anything for them to do. What had Absalom used them all for!?

The angels hid their distaste for the slavery well, but it really didn't take a master at reading emotions to notice. He figured it made sense, at least.

The Makers arrived roughly a week after the first meeting with the angels, towering over most of the camp. Even the tall tents of the Firstborn were mostly overshadowed by the venerable Old Ones. It didn't take them really all that long to change the world to see the Nephilim as its' masters.

They left almost immediately afterwards, being more than unhappy with the Nephilim for their rampage across Creation. Despite the tension the alliance caused with one of their closest allies, the angels seemed determined on their course.

War couldn't help but wonder once again what the First Kingdom sought to gain from all this. Peace was starting to look less and less worth all the hazzle and trouble this was bringing to their doorstep. Especially when they started to invest themselves heavily into the Nephilim progress.

It took a good while again until the angels had convinced the Nephilim to try out agriculture – and the eating of plants. The first time the angels had arranged for the food, a small panic had broken out in the camp, the addition of plants making nearly all Nephilim fear that a famine had hit.

The angels looked on with mild amusement, having figured that plants would get such a reaction considering the Nephilim had proven strict carnivores during the few days they were there.

"How long until we should inform them this is angelic cuisine?" Azrael was leaning lightly against Abaddon, his legs folded to the side and wings gracefully closed behind him.

"Until one of them deigns to ask." Abaddon couldn't keep the amused look from his face, sitting cross-legged with one wing stretched behind his friend. Even after weeks, he couldn't stop himself from being protective of the scholar.

Azrael took another bite of his own portion, demurely bringing his to his mouth. Contrary to how they ate in the White City, the delegation at the Nephilim was forced to relay on their fingers to eat. Their hosts simply had no cutlery, using their war-weapons to cut the meat. The closest they came to forks was using said weapons to stab the meat if it was too hot, most having one or two arrows for the use.

The dish the angels had made with a thick stew that could be scooped up with parts of the massive breads they had baked. For pots they had resorted to the shells of the massive beasts of labour that the Nephilim had, as the half-demons did not waste their metal on pots.


	11. Chapter 10

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **9**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After a few weeks of this, the angels managed to convince the Nephilim to try agriculture, mostly by pointing out that many of the plants could be turned into alcohols of some kind. That convinced them quickly.

The next day, several scholars arrived from Heaven with some seed. Most of them were female, though some men had also come. The unofficial leader of this group was a tall scholar-male dressed in a dark-green robe embroidered with golden marigolds.

On one of the wide fields outside the tent-city they started a grain-farm. The Nephilim relegated some of their slaves to work on it, to the discomfort of the angels involved. Some Nephilim joined them, not so much to help but to prevent the slaves attempting an escape of some sort. One of the Nephilim Firstborn had been delegated to the head of that group.

Lust was beyond annoyed at her fellow Firstborn at the moment. Leaning against one of the beasts of burden, she was studying the whole agriculture-thing happening in front of her. The angels were explaining things to the slaves and lesser Nephilim, acting as if there was no difference between the two groups. All this because Death's brat hadn't delivered itself to Lilith and they now desperately needed allies to protect themselves from her inevitable wrath.

The angelic leader was weaving his magic for something, the soft lights floating around him as he spoke with another angel. To protect his robes from dirt he had put on a leather jerkin, though she hadn't seen him do anything that could cause him to become dirty. Almost dismissively, he cast the magic away, having it bounce on the ground. Where it hit, flowers and bushes burst from the soil.

In moments, they passed through several years worth of growth. One bush had spring at least 4 times that she caught. Every time 'summer' ended, a rain of berries fell to the ground, so by the time they stopped, there was a sizable mount. At the angel's gesture several of the child-slaves started gathering them instead of assisting the adults with setting up the fields.

"Should've figured he'd have a weak heart." Lust muttered darkly, sighing while resisting the urge to just walk off.

She rolled her eyes when Azrael appeared, turning to the other scholar.

"I am so done with this." Deciding the wrath of the other Firstborn could not be greater than her annoyance at being there, she left, marching back into the camp.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I can't wait until Lilith finally realizes what we're doing." The angelic Firstborn had gathered in their private council-chamber, also known as Michael's wings. The recent developments had happened during one of his wakeful moments and so he would be staying awake for the foreseeable future.

Currently they were gathered in his wings, talking amongst themselves.

"I still want to know where you got the idea, Iaoel." Metatron spoke up, resting his chest against one of his twin's feather-tentacles. "Alliance with the Nephilim, that I can see… but we have ambassadors whose job it is to deal with that. Why insist on Azrael and Abaddon?"

"Because they can fight their way out." Rahab offered, one arm supporting Laylah in her position against him. He had hooked his own wings around two of Michael's to rest. Contrary to the calm he was currently projecting, he had not been amused when their sister first informed him of her plans.

"That, and they have the highest chance of success." Iaoel chuckled softly, blind eyes sparkling with her mirth. "Just trust me."

"This better be worth the drama later on." Michael dryly pointed out, wings and tentacles shifting as he stretched a bit. Currently he was still struggling with the long awake-time. "Lucien is already getting worried that I am awake this long. He thinks it might affect my reserves in case of emergency."

"Lucien has issues." Jeduthun pointed out, his lyrical voice echoing in the cavernous opening between Michael's wings. "We talked about this, brother. You must deal with him at some point or I do not need Iaoel's sight to see it will go poorly for him. Very poorly."

"He is just protective."

"He calls upon you in battle to give him strength!" Laylah countered. "But anyway, back to my son, if you lot please. Now I am quite curious why him, Iaoel."

"Now where's the fun in telling you, sister." The golden-eyed female answered softly, smiling serenely.


	12. Chapter 11

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **10**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

War at this point still hungered for the angelic scholar. Despite Death's threats and only bare interactions, he still wanted the other male. Things were complicated by the fact that he didn't even know whether the angel was interesting in him – and more importantly, men in general. He knew that when Azrael and Abaddon were in the tent-city they shared a tent...

Wait, did that mean those two were a thing? For Nephilim it certainly would. That would make it completely impossible, though Death would approve. War sighed in defeat, watching the scholar talk with one of the other angels from afar.

"Please tell me you are not still hung up over the angel." Death appeared behind him, following his line of sight.

"Watching him is about the only thing I can do." The younger Nephilim countered sharply. "Absalom's harem is disgusting with how much they cling to me and all the women that are getting my attention are pawns of their Elder-parents." War rose to his feet, brushing off the dust.

"You are going to need to pick one of them at some point." Death headed down, only briefly waiting for War to follow. "They are getting annoying about you getting an heir. They want to prevent the mess from after Absalom's death."

"They want a susceptible child so they can off me and then rule through it." The white-haired male muttered, throwing his brother a flat stare. "You can barely keep me safe, Death, do not presume you'd manage with a grandchild of one of those other blowtarts."

Tellingly, the black-haired elder did not answer that statement. As they reached the camp, the light of a portal shone over the area. A black-and-blue circle was held open by shining runes nearby.

"More angels?" They headed over, seeing Azrael and Abaddon fly overhead and touch down next to it. "You did not inform us of this, angels."

"We didn't know either." Abaddon answered, looking up at the portal. "Otherwise we would have." As he spoke, an angel came through the portal and headed for Azrael. It was a gorgeous female that greeted him warmly and then started talking in quick Angelic as the portal closed behind her. The shining white wings were tinged with gold.

"What's going on?" War asked after a bit. The female and Azrael were still talking in Angelic, meaning he and Death didn't understand what they were saying.

"White City-things." Abaddon's eyes narrowed. "Azrael's duties are calling." He shrugged lightly. "It seems Lilith is slowly figuring out that her creations are turning elsewhere."

"Shouldn't that be your purview?" War felt his heart contract at the matter-of-factness of the angel. If Lilith truly started realizing they were turning to the angels, there'd be Hell to pay.

"I am only needed if it comes down to war." The General crossed his arms. "Eerrr… the event, not the person."

"I figured." Death dryly answered. "Anything more specific?"

The angel called out to the other two in Angelic. The female answered in kind, while Azrael seemed to be creating a spell-matrix of some kind.

"Michael needs assistance with the wards of the city." The armoured angel eventually said. "Nothing more. I can have a look into it, if you wish?"

"Considering we know her first target… yes, please." War answered. "I'd rather be warned beforehand if she is going to storm in."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As Azrael and Abaddon returned to the White City, they left the angels who were teaching agriculture alone in the Nephilim tent-city. Cahethal was now in charge, the scholar being a Secondborn-son of Iaoel, send by his mother as a more subtle influence than his cousin and nephew. He was somewhat less happy with her insistence that he also make sure her vision came to pass.

Sighing softly, he looked out over the farm. Despite the elder Nephilim's intentions, quite some non-slaves also worked there. Lust was still deputied to oversee the whole operation and as such they spend quite some time together.

After a while, they also actually talked to one another, though it was mostly shallow conversation about nothing in particular. At least, until he brought a book for entertainment. Nephilim having nothing like books, curiosity got the better of Lust and they had a nice talk about it. He wondered what it meant that a book was all it took to get into a comfortable conversation with a Nephilim.


	13. Chapter 12

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **1** **1**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He should have seen this coming, really. He had not inherited his mother's Second Sight – though he had a well-honed intuition – but it was really not that of a stretch to see this happen.

After he started to teach Lust the basics of angelic writing so she could read books herself, the Nephilim Firstborn insisted on thanking him somehow. Within a few moments she was flirting heavily with the angelic male, draping herself over him.

"I am quite unsure what to think of this." He was sitting cross-legged in her tent, making no move either to acknowledge or reject with her advances.

She snorted, using his shoulder to pull herself a touch closer, smirking when noticing his wings curling lightly at that. "Really, you ought to have expected this." She laughed lightly. "I am a daughter of Lilith, and I sincerely doubt I have much to teach to an angelic scholar." The half-clad Nephilim purred. "Well, aside from sex..."

Cahethal rolled his eyes. He was going to have words with his mother after this, because he started thinking this was also part of her plan. "I suppose in theory that fits."

"Literally even." She rolled onto her back, stretching to make her body show-off just so. Her laughter grew louder when he with the single most bored expression she had ever seen put a book on her, mostly because she could tell that he was affected, no matter what he said. "Well? May I say thank you or not?"

"You do realize that this is quite improper for angelic standards, right?" He stretched his wings, the white feathers filling her tent.

"I guess you could call it good diplomacy." She threw the book aside, to his disapproving look. "Live a little, angel."

"I have lived plenty." The angelic Second-born dryly countered. "All perfectly legal, I assure you. I am more afraid you will fall asleep, if I recall your kind's exploits during dinners."

She saw that as a challenge, it seemed. Suddenly he found her in his lap, arms around his neck.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Azrael and Abaddon arrived after a while. "Lilith is realizing what is happening here." Azrael informed the two Nephilim, accepting the goblet of drink as he spoke.

"How bad is it, exactly?" War was lounging on his chair, hiding his study of the angel under his hood. The scholar seemed to be burning in the gloom of the tent, the inner light of the General being drowned out by that of his companion.

"Rumour has it she is starting to amass an army." Abaddon answered, face full of distaste. "I feel we will learn early how well angels and Nephilim can fight together." He was studying his own drink. "How are things here?"

"Same old, same old." Death was standing behind his brother, almost looming over the younger Nephilim. "I suppose the farm is progressing nicely."

War felt his heart skip a bit at the small chuckle of the scholarly angel. Sometimes he really wondered if the scholar knew and was purposely being this enchanting. Whatever it was, neither Abaddon nor Death seemed to notice or care.

"Perhaps we should get a contingent of warriors here for sparring?" Azrael looked at his fellow angel. "That way, if… _when_ it comes down to war, the warriors are used to one another."

"If our host permits." Abaddon looked at the two nephilim, mouth-corner quirking lightly at something.

"I do." War moved to sit more upright. "I'd rather not that my people have to deal with demons on their own if help is possible. It will spare lives."

"Then I will arrange things with Death, I suppose." The warrior-angel rose to his feet, turning to the exit. "See what works best." The Firstborn followed slowly, almost reluctantly.

"And so we are alone." Azrael chuckled again, looking at the young Nephilim. "I heard rumours that Cahethal is… being pursued by a Nephilim?"

"Yes, I heard those too." War answered slowly.

The scholar leaned forward lightly. "So what is keeping you?"

"Pardon?"

"If you think you are subtle, Nephilim, you really need to rethink the meaning of subtle."

The young Nephilim froze in place; his eyes widened and glowed, War was lost for a moment what to do. He tried to suppressed his desire for the angel and hide it. How did Azrael know; did he fail to camouflage it? "Is acknowledging this wise, Azrael?"

"Why would it not?" The angel crossed his arms lightly. "I do not see how and why our private lives are anyone's business." His mouth-corner quirked up. "Besides, it might help you keep from drooling over me on a regular basis."

Can a manticore jump him and beat him unconscious? War reached out and pulled the hood lower over his head. Embarrassment rolled of him in waves. "I was too obvious, it seems. Death is going to skin me alive, kill me and revive me again."

"In your defence, he was not exactly subtle either." Azrael snorted lightly, pushing the hood back so he could see War's face.

Chuckling at this, War had to admit that Azrael had a point. "Didn't what to sabotage the alliance." And Death can be terrifying.

"Well, it has been solidified, so we might as well." The angel smirked lightly. "Let's see how much experience you have, little boy."

Letting out a low growl, War leaned closer to the scholar. "Is that a challenge, angel." He smirked, showing off his sharp teeth.

"Just a factual statement." Azrael didn't back off. "You are quite young compared to me."

Reaching towards the scholar and pulling him towards his own chest, War peered down at the slightly shorter angel. "Perhaps I should show you how experienced I am."

"Nephilim-courtships are quite short." The older male snorted. "So young and impatient..."

"We tend to go straight to the point." War nuzzled the platinum-haired male, "No need dance around each other anymore."

"You are a bunch of impatient hotheads." Azrael purred, moving his wings to surround them. "How could I refuse the orders of the Leader of the Nephilim? I might spark a diplomatic nightmare..."

A low laughter bubbled up from the blue-eyed male. "Might have and so far you don't seem to mind the impatient hothead." War glanced amused at the wings surround them. "Another angelic custom?"

"I assumed you'd prefer Death not seeing this." Azrael smiled gently, playfully trying to free himself from the Nephilim's hold. "Something about skinning you?"

"Not this will help; he will be even more suspicious seeing us like this." Pulling the angel tighter to himself, stopping the playful escaping attempts.

"You intend to flaunt me?" The scholar struggled still, a smirk on his face. "Who says I will be the one to be flaunted?"

"It would a shame not to." His mouth grazed near Azrael's cheek. "My offer still stands."

"Wasn't it a threat?" The scholar felt a shudder run down his back. "Sounded like one to me..."

"Not a threat," War cupped one of Azrael's cheek and kissed near the mouth. "A proposal."

"More tender than I expected from your kind." The mystic leaned into the touch. "Mmmhh... Well, I suppose I might as well... Let's see if you can convince me to submit..." He added teasingly.


	14. Chapter 13

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **1** **3**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lust became increasingly bold as the angel did not refuse her. Whenever gatherings included the Gatekeeper, the other Second-born took great delight in teasing his cousin. Meanwhile there was no indication of a relationship change between Azrael and War, though Death still felt suspicious. For one, War could talk to the angel without looking like he was about to spontaneously combust. For another, Azrael seemed much more personable with the Nephilim.

So he decided to pay a visit to his brother at the next opportunity, just to hear him out about exactly what had changed. It was a couple days later that he found a moment early during the morning.

Azrael was still asleep, naked under the furs that made up War's bed. There were some minor bruises and bitemarks scattered over his body, but he seemed not to mind as he was curled up against the one who had caused them.

Hugging and caressing the angel, War rumbled contently. It was however short lived when Death threw open the flaps of the tent.

"You couldn't keep you damn self from the angel." Death growled in anger. "The whole camp is buzzing that you two are courting."

"That's correct, brother." War answered in hushed voice, not wanting to wake up his lover.

That plot kinda failed as Death had already woken up Azrael. The scholar murmured something, stretching lightly while trying to bury his face better in War's neck. "Comfy..."

Death looked as if he saw the most foulest display that Lilith had to offer. "And why would you think it's a good idea to bed the negotiator!? "

"I would be insane not to..."

"DAMN YOU, WAR!"*

"MMmhmm..." Azrael frowned, peeling his eyes open to look at the man looming over them. "Is this also some Nephilim-tradition, because I don't much appreciate it."

Baring down at the sleepy scholar, Death growl: "I thought you were the wisest of all angels? Or is this how you do negotiations?" The Eldest bared his teeth, seething in anger.

"I am the wisest of all angels." Azrael pushed his hair aside with a glower. "But it does not take wisdom to see private lives free from politics."

"High ranked Nephilim don't have private live free from politics, angel." Death pointed at his disgruntled brother. "Every decision he makes reflects upon him directly."

"Brother, that's enough. I-"

"I'm not done with you yet brother; I'm still going to keep my promises to you!"

The angel pushed himself to sit up, pulling one of the furs to wrap around his body. "And you think I'm any different, Death? I can still have a private life and so can War. And if that private life involves my ass, so be it..." He shifted his wings. "Besides, I feel like you skinning him will reflect worse than him banging me."

During opening his mouth to tell exactly what he thinks of Azrael's statements, when a soft voice of a servant called into the tent. "Elder Death, Leader and my Lord? I have a message from the Firstborns."

Before Death could demand the servant to leave, War called him in. He hoped the other Firstborn wouldn't complain about him and Azrael.

Now Azrael did feel somewhat awkward, wrapping his wings around himself for added privacy. Nephilim might not mind running around half-naked, but he did.

The servant entered in and bowed down low towards War and Azrael. "The Firstborn want to sent their congratulations and their blessing to your courting."

"WHAT!"

Looking terrified at Death's tone, the servant stuttered: "T-they are delighted that Heaven wants to force a closer relationship with the Nephilim. They-"

Death stormed out, heading furious to the other Firstborns.

"D-did I do s-something wrong?"

"I don't think so..." Azrael said softly, looking at War. He'd rather not make assumptions. "Convenient that the other Firstborn like this."

War shook his head. "Tell the Firstborn they have my thanks, though I will recommend that you wait until my brother leave them. You know his temper." After the servant bowed and left, War leaned back in the rugs. Great, now the Elders want to use this as a way to have sway in the alliance. "Damn them..."


	15. Chapter 15

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/War, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **1** **4**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Now that they were alone again, Azrael opened his wings and let the fur slide down his body. "Oh? Why's that?" He moved to lean over War lightly.

"Knowing them, they want to use our courting from more political gain... They are a paranoid bunch." War tugged the angel to him. "Death is relaxed compared to most of them."

"I see." Azrael smiled lightly, spreading his wings briefly. "And you'll let them do that?"

He laughed out loud at this. "Over my dead body. However this makes the courting more precarious."

"Whirlwind romance..." Azrael snorted. "I'm looking forward to that." He stretched lightly. "So... breakfast, I guess?"

War hummed in agreement; his hand stroked over the angel's bronze back until it finally settled on top Azrael's buttocks.

The angel took a sharp breath, looking at the limb on his body. "And here I was thinking a scholar's body would not hold much appeal to you..."

A low chuckle rumbled through the tent. "And why wouldn't this magnificent," giving one of the cheeks a soft squeeze," body hold an appeal to me." The Nephilim purred in delight. "Surely, other angels wouldn't be blind to you?"

"Other angels are not named 'War' and look like they can benchpress an Ortho..." The scholar's wings moved at the touch, their owner leaning down a bit more.

"I'm flattered and I can assure you, here you have turned many heads." War grinned up at the angel.

"I did notice that." Azrael threw a look outside as if to see the entire camp. "I imagine quite a few were thinking about getting me in their... furs." He chuckled lightly. "So what IS appropriate for a non-nephilim-lover in your culture?"

"It depends." Leaning back down, the Nephilim Leader resumed stroking his lover.

"On what?" Azrael's wings twitched at his back. "On whether they're a slave or a toy?" He jokingly asked, leaning down to press gentle kisses to War's neck.

"More if they came to the camp as a slave or a freeman... " War rumbled in pleasure at the kisses. "Though, most of them tend to stay at one particular Nephilim."

"Well, I am not exactly intending to switch Nephilim either." Azrael snorted, continuing his kisses. "And you'll have to forgive me if that breaks some Nephilim-custom..."

"You haven't broken any of them. As for what is appropriate for a non-nephilim, slaves tend to wear certain clothing and collar to show their status, while the Freeman wears what they desire, making sure that their necks are bare. Sometimes to show off their marking."

"Marking?" Azrael tilted his head a bit at that one. "Dare I ask what that is...?" His hand trailed to the carved mark on the Nephilim's shoulder.

"Not the same as this kind of markings. " Trailing his finger on Azrael's neck, War explained: "Bonded Nephilim bite their mate in their neck, marking each other as theirs. " War shrugged his shoulders. "Left overs from our demonic ancestors."

"Ah..." Azrael reached up, covering his neck with his own hand. "Is... is that... necessary?" Angels and demonic habits tended not to mix well.

"For the non-nephilim, no. Some species don't react well to the marking." War reached out and covered Azrael's hand with his own. "It's not known how Angels react to those, though I can see it makes you uncomfortable."

"Well, demons... angels..." Azrael shrugged lightly, tilting his head to place a kiss on the arm beside his face. "I am not so sure those go well together, as no doubt you can imagine."

Humming low in agreement, War leaned towards Azrael to plant a firm kiss on his lips. "So breakfast in the communal area or in my tent in private?" His toothy grin became lurid at the last five words.

"Mayhap communal might be best today." Azrael pushed himself up. "I fear I did not inform Abaddon I was planning on staying elsewhere and knowing him, he'll worry."

With a disappointed huff, War rose up from his furs, effortless picking Azrael up with him. "Pity."

"Someone does not like to share?" Azrael yelped softly when he was lifted without much effort. "You're not going to carry me around like this, right?"

"That would be a wonderful sight; showing you off to whole camp." War let out a bark-like laugh at the Azrael's expression. "Have no fear, I'll put you down where you left your clothes."

"Now you're somewhat confusing me." Azrael chuckled. "Share or no share, make up your mind, Nephilim." When War put him down, he expertly dressed in his robes.

"Showing off is not the same as sharing." After putting on his clothing, he started to fasten his customary armour pieces. "Maybe you should go and meet Abaddon at his tent, lessen his worries."

Azrael laughed at that. "'His tent'? I already moved in with you?" He moved over, assisting War with his armour. "Dear Creator, you Nephilim ARE really impatient, are you not?"

Huffing again but now in annoyance, War grumbled: "What with you Angels keeping on complaining about us being fast? Life is too unpredictable to go slow."

"Because for angels, sex is more of a betrothal-thing and moving together is somewhere around there too, most of the times at marriage." Azrael looked up at the Nephilim with eyes shining in amusement. "While with you, it's apparently both a first-date thing."

War blinked at that. "I guess there are many customs of angels I don't know of." Looking back at the scholar, he added: "I hope I haven't offended you in any way."

"Nothing my pride shan't recover from." Azrael threw a smirk at the youngster. "Don't get too dominant though, chief, unless you can back up your talk."

"I never boast without backing up myself." The younger Nephilim puffed up, subconsciously showing off his might.

"No indeed..." Azrael patted his shoulder. "We'll have to see if you can keep backing yourself up." The angel's wings briefly closed around the Nephilim behind him. "Or I'll back myself."

Raising his eyebrows, War rumbled: "Is that a challenge?"

"Factual statement." The scholar pointed out. "I am not wholly submissive, you know." He turned to the Nephilim. "And I am sure I know a few things that will make you beg very sweetly."

"Now I understand why Death kept on warning me to stay away from you." Blinking, War just managed not to drop open his jaws; Lilith wasn't clearly the most dangerous seducer! "I'm looking forward to that."

"For a second I thought you were scared." Azrael smirked lightly, moving closer to the Nephilim. "Poor little boy... Gotten in over your head?"

"Pah, I love a good challenge!"

"Let's see if you can win this one." The angel moved away, smoothing his hair before heading to the door. "I'll make certain it won't be as easy as getting this job."

Watching the angel leave his tent, War began wondering what he had gotten himself into, however he certainly welcomed it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Category:** **Darksiders I & II**

 **Rating:** **M**

 **Couples:** **Azrael/?, Abaddon/?**

 **Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery, Lemon, Character Death**

 **Chapter:** **1** **4**

 **Copyright:** **Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The now public relationship of War with an angel was confusing, to say the least. Most Nephilim wondered what pleasure an angel could give a creation of Lilith, particularly if it was a scholar, who no doubt could handle precious little. Questions that had not been asked about Lust and Cahethal – mostly because he was assumed to be merely a short fling, if even that – were now asked about War and Azrael.

The White City too was in something of an uproar. While the Codex Bellum never outright forbade relationships with non-angels – a precaution the angelic Firstborn took when seeing Metatron's appetites – it was generally agreed that demons were far from appropriate. That Nephilim were only half-demon mattered little to most of the city.

Abaddon meanwhile was mostly annoyed, arguing in sharp angelic with the other dignitary of the White City. "So all your visits to the White City or the Well were simply covers to see him? You do realize I was joking, right?"

"Certainly not all my visits, Abaddon." Heaven's first Mystic chuckled lightly. "Besides, my family is mostly rejoicing that I am finally no longer single."

"You are the only child Laylah ever produced, by my knowledge. It is a giving they overlook your flaws." The General countered sharply. "You cannot seriously be considering this Nephilim husband-material!?"

"Abaddon, mind your tone." Ever so slowly, annoyance formed on the blue-clad angel's face. "I am being courted and marriage is still well-off… and even if it were not, I do not answer to you, warrior. You answer to me and will continue to do so until either of us perishes."

Glorious white wings shifted, the air trembling between two men who would not back down easily. In the end, angelic obedience to authority won out, Abaddon sketching a bow and backing away. But his eyes burned and Azrael was well aware that the last word had not yet been spoken about the matter.

Both felt the new arrival at the same time; something pure and unmarred had arrived in the Nephilim-encampment. The feeling of an Angelic Firstborn alone was enough to calm them. Abaddon led the way, looking up into the sky where four wings were carrying a woman down to solid ground.

Even the nearby Nephilim could tell that whoever this was, she was no ordinary angel, if only by how all angels seemed to reverently shrink in on themselves, wings demurely closing behind them. Only two angels did no such thing, Cahethal approaching the female in the air as she touched down in front of Azrael. Lust trailed along under her angel, eyes narrowed in distrust just a touch. In her experience, if someone was too much of something, it always boded ill. Absalom had been too perfect a Nephilim and had perished under the blade of one he had deemed inconsequential…

War tripped and nearly faceplanted at the greeting Azreal offered her. "Welcome, mother! What brings you here?"

"A great many things, my son." Laylah set down on solid ground, her wings curling behind her. "But business first, I suppose." Her shining white eyes settled on War, who was pretty certain he'd have preferred some warning before meeting his near-mother-in-law. Beside him, Death gave no indication he cared about the implications of the female angel before them. "Apologies, but I assume you are War? You're the only angelic-looking Nephilim I am seeing here."

"Mother." Azrael's eyes narrowed.

"It's the only description I ever got about him." She shrugged her son's disapproval off, marching over to the Nephilim in question, smiling lightly at the sight of Cahethal having touched down beside Lust. "And I assume you must be Death, then?"

"I am." Orange eyes glowed. "And from his greeting, I assume you are Azreal's mother?"

"In the flesh; I am Laylah, Archangel of the night and conception, First of the female angelic Firstborn… and a couple other titles I can do without." Her smile turned serene as she ignored the snort of amusement of the green-clad angelic male nearby. "I come for business and for pleasure, Nephilim."

"My tent, then..." War caught himself, gesturing into the camp. Business he could do, but he was not looking forward to whatever she meant with pleasure. He knew enough of thing that mothers-in-law were

not merciful to those their children had chosen. Briefly glancing over his shoulder, he noted with some surprise that Lust and her angel seemed to be following them.

"I admit myself concerned about what business could warrant sending out an Angelic Firstborn as messenger." Abaddon spoke up once they were securely in War's tent. "Even with… pleasure as an added activity."

Laylah settled down on her offered spot, legs curling under her. "Iaoel's Sight, grand-nephew. You might recall we do not lightly spread her words."

"What did my mother See?" Cahethal had lingered near the tent's entrance, but now he approached.

"War. Fire and blood." She leaned towards the Nephilim. "This tent-city in flames. She has narrowed it down to some time next mid-Autumn, but there will be an attack of some sort."

"A mere season away." War breathed. "This 'Sight'…?"

"Second Sight. The ability to see past, present and future, to receive visions there-off and with enough training, to guide those." Azrael informed him. "How certain is she, mother?"

"Considering the reports about troop-movements in Hell, I think we can take it as a certainty, my son."

"If this is the case, perhaps we should finalize the portal-gate between the White City and here." Abaddon suggested. "Outright stationing angels here might be problematic, but an established portal-gate would work just as well. Certainly better than having to manually craft one like we have been doing."


End file.
